Let me start this post out by saying HOLY CRAP I am tired today. We saw John Mayer last night and didn’t get home until almost 1am! (The show was awesome, btw.) Abby ended up spending the night at the in-laws since I grossly underestimated what time we’d be able to pick her up at. (I thought the show would be done around 10:30 at the latest. I’m apparently old.)

Anyway, back to the reason for this post. John Mayer.

When I was younger, say…late teens, very early twenties, I was a music snob of sorts. (Well, let’s be honest. I still am. Sort of.) I was involved in a scene where I wanted large acceptance and a compatable boyfriend for said scene. Admitting to enjoying bands like John Mayer and Dave Matthews would have been laughed at. I just didn’t want to admit to really liking them. And I thought I had to mask my love for these artists whenever I met a new guy just in case he thought they were lame.

And then I met the hubs.

I cautiously exposed portions of my music taste to him. I was more indie, he was a little indie and a lot hip-hop. And then he saw my CD collection. Complete with Dave Matthews, John Mayer, and countless other CDs I don’t advertise to the world. And know what he said? “I like Dave Matthews, they’re really good.” This man, who loved indie rock as much as me and old school hip-hop LIKED DAVE MATTHEWS BAND.

Internets – I knew we would go far.

So, last night while standing in the fourth row, with women (and strangely some men) yelling “I love you, John!” at the stage, I got to stand there with my husband, because even though John Mayer isn’t his favorite, he can still admit to liking him. And will be in the fourth row because he knows how much I want to be there.